


Blazing fire

by theWholeShebang



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter), mission
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:53:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23744131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theWholeShebang/pseuds/theWholeShebang
Summary: Aimee is a muggleborn witch, ready to start her sixth year at Hogwarts. It is a weird time to be muggleborn with Lord Voldemort on the rise. Aimee is itching to do something. Then the Order has a mission for her.
Relationships: Fred Weasley/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 8





	1. When in Paris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _AN- This story has been on my mind for years, but I never really got round to writing it all down. With all the craziness going down I finally found time. Please let me know what you think. I will try to update every Sunday._

In all the years that Aimee knew her, Tonks had never sent her a letter longer than a few sentences and it seemed that that tradition would be unbroken for now, thought Aimee as she unfolded a very small piece of parchment.

_Dear Aimee,_

_We eloped. I AM A MARRIED WOMAN. I repeat I. AM. MARRIED. I am happy beyond words._

_XXX_

_Tonks, no suppose it’s Lupin now! (Still call me Tonks though)_

Aimee grinned broadly as she read the good news. She passed the letter along to Fred who was sitting opposite her at the small wobbly table. They were in muggle Paris and had just ordered croissants and coffee at a little cafe.

‘She probably knocked herself up’, concluded Fred after he read the letter.

‘Aren’t you the romantic…’, scolded Aimee her boyfriend, but nothing could spoil her good mood. Or so she thought.

‘Back to England tonight’, sighed Fred. ‘What’d you reckon happen if we just _don’t_ go?’

Aimee sat up straighter as her good mood vanished. She was suddenly aware again of the nervous pit in her stomach, a feeling that had settled there after the Headmaster at Hogwarts was murdered and her school had closed early for the summer.

Where she should have spent her summer waiting with dread for her OWL results like a normal sixteen-year-old witch, she had spent her summer waiting with dread for bad news, like random muggle murdering and sudden deaths of Ministry members.

‘I suppose if we don’t go, we will experience the wrath of your mother.’, joked Aimee, trying to maintain a light mood, although Mrs. Weasley’s mood was hardly a laughing matter these days. Molly Weasley had been so tense and stressed that Aimee had not seen her best friend Ginny once since the holidays, because she feared letting her children out of her sight. (Though Fred was also one of Mrs. Weasley’s children he was of age and had the tendency to ignore orders.). ‘And I expect my parents would miss us on the ferry.’

She was in France with her mum and dad, like most of her summers, to visit her father’s younger brother and his family and her grandparents. Fred had managed to overlap his business trip to Place Cachée, the French equivalent to Diagon Alley, with Aimee’s stay in France.

Aimee had been able to introduce Fred to her family, who lived just an hour south of Paris, although they could not tell that they had met at a wizarding school for Aimee’s family was full of muggles and that would have been a breech with the Secrecy Laws set by her Ministry. It still had been an important moment to introduce Fred as her _copain_ to her grandparents and somehow it had given some more gravity to their relationship. This feeling had only been reimbursed when her parents had allowed them to spend the last days of their holiday in Paris with just the two of them. (The only small setback had been a howler from Mrs. Weasley reminding Fred to be a gentleman.)

The last two days had been spent in blissful ignorance as they had strolled both muggle and wizard Paris. Aimee had bought a beautiful dress for the wedding and Fred had managed to sell some of his merchandise to _sur le blague_ , a wizard joke shop at the Place Cachée. Just for a short while they could put their minds off the looming war back home.

In all the six years since she found out she was witch, Aimee had never dreaded going back to school after the summer, but now she could not help but feel some slight apprehension at the thought of going back to the wizarding world. Most of all because it felt like there were more important things for her to do. When she had boarded the Hogwarts Express all those years ago, she had been excited to learn magic and meet unicorns and though both of those things had happened, it had not been quite as she expected.

She knew it was mostly bad timing, but the fact that she had a muggle-heritage (meaning both her parents were non-magical people) had put her at the receiving end of quite a lot of prejudice. This of course, had all to do with the rise of You-Know-Who. Twice now, had someone died at her school, not to mention that she had almost been murdered by a scary basilisk under the influence of a shadow of You-Know-Who in only her first year. What scared her most, was that lots of magical people did not seem too worried about it all, muggles were found dead left and right and it felt as if _hardly anybody cared_.

It meant that at sixteen, she worried about the safety of her muggle parents and she wished nothing more than to help in the fight. If You-Know-Who would rise to full power, she knew she would be the first to go. She felt that she should defend herself. Yet, she had two more years of education lying in her future and even though she would be of age in less than two months, it did not seem that the Order would allow her to join their ranks before she had graduated Hogwarts. Not for her lack of trying though, because Aimee had closed all her letters to Tonks with a plead for letting her do something _useful_.

‘We still have time to visit _musique magique._ ’, said Fred, in an obvious attempt to cheer her up.

It worked a little, both because Fred’s attempt at pronouncing French words would always make her smile and because she loved the store. In the three days that they had been in Paris, Aimee had managed to visit the shop no less than four times and she would not mind going once more. The music store was one of the most beautiful shops on _Place Cachée,_ four stories high and filled to the brim with instruments, sheet music, books on magical music and singing birds.

She had almost spent all her galleons on one amazing microphone, that would enhance her voice (not that she really needed that for she could sing quite on key without help) but it would be fun to be able to sing a whole octave lower or higher and the possibilities that provided were intriguing. In the end, she could not justify spending such a large amount of money, because as she sadly reminded herself, the band had broken up.

Aimee knew it should be the least of her worries in the midst of an impending disaster, but she truly missed her band _Break the Houses Down._

Aimee had joined the band in her second year at Hogwarts. Everything about the band was amazing. She loved making music and she loved singing. It had been an outlet. She, Barry, Oliver and Beau had become the best of friends. Which was unusual since they were all from different houses. Even more unusual perhaps was the fact that they all had different bloodlines. Barrick Mirck was a half blood, and Oliver and Beaumont Selwyn were purebloods. Still they had gotten along fine, to all their surprises. Yet now, with Voldemort on the rise the Selwyn brothers did not want to be seen with Aimee. Their uncle was a Death Eater and even though the brothers were not on good terms with him, they were afraid that their uncle would hurt Aimee because he thought the fact that purebloods and muggleborns were friends was a disgrace. They meant well by breaking contact, it was for her safety really, but she missed the boys.

She also really liked being in the band because it meant she was the best at something. She knew she was not the most brilliant of witches. Her magic was just average at best and in some areas it barely seemed to exist. Despite this, she was “somebody”, because of her talent. She had really enjoyed that.

Still it seemed stupid to mourn not being the best at something, when there were so many deaths to mourn. She felt a bit petty.

‘Come on then’, said Fred, slamming some muggle coins on the table. ‘I’ll buy you that book that you’ve picked up three times and somehow did not buy. Almost, as if you wanted me to buy it for you.’

Aimee sent him a sly smile, for that had indeed not been a coincidence.


	2. Good memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It feels as the calm before the storm. Aimee is not wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a bit of background, next chapter the story will start. Kudos and comments make my day (seriously, they are highly appreciated).  
> Love, TheWholeShebang

Aimee stood in front of her mirror. She had not worn a dress this fancy since the Yule Ball in her third year. The dress was made of violet velvet and matched her eyes, which stared back at her bright and violet. After a quick glance at the clock she realized that she still had twenty minutes before Fred would pick her up and side-apparate her to Bill and Fleur’s wedding. 

‘Mom?’, she yelled while going downstairs. ‘Do you think this dress goes better with or without freckles?’

‘Garden, hon’, her mom yelled back. She went outside to the little backyard, to see her mom bent over the blooming strawberry plants. 

‘Wow, could you look any more like a witch than you do now?’, she heard her father say in his slight French accent.

‘Why, thank you father. You really know how to compliment a lady.’, laughed Aimee, for she knew he meant well. She could not imagine her parents being more supportive of her being a witch. 

‘I just meant with all the purple and the velvet and everything.’, her father mumbled in explanation.

‘Just stop talking, dear’, her mom advised. 

‘Yeah, thanks’, said Aimee as she turned to her mom, ‘but freckles or no freckles?’. 

Daffodil Laurent stopped gardening and looked at her daughter. ‘I’d say no freckles this time’. 

Aimee closed her eyes and fixed her appearance. She was a metamorphagus, which meant that she could change her appearance at will. It sure was cool, but sometimes the possibilities of how she could look overwhelmed her. She knew that Tonks liked switching hair colours on the regular but besides her violet eyes and switching the amount of freckles, Aimee mostly looked the same.   
She caught her reflection in the window. She looked classy in her velvet dress that reached just below her knees. Her hair which was its usual curly brown today was swooped to one side. Her pale skin matched really well with the colour of the dress. 

‘You look really mature', said her mom proudly. 

‘Well, she is almost an adult witch’, said her dad. ‘Right Aims? Witches become of age at seventeen.’ Her father had the habit of dropping random wizard facts all the time. His obsession with the wizard lifestyle was only rivalled by Ginny’s father’s obsession of the Muggle lifestyle and when the girls had introduced their dads to each other, the girls had feared they would never stop talking. With enthusiasm Philippe had showed Mr. Weasley their television and the light switches as Mr. Weasley had talked Philippe through the finer details of the Ministry of Magic. Ginny and Aimee had been thirteen and they thought their fathers were absolute dorks. 

‘Speaking about the Wizarding World.’, started Aimee, suddenly nervous. ‘Have you read the Prophet?’

‘Of course,’, said Philippe, who had started reading the magical newspaper ever since Aimee went to Hogwarts. ‘It is looking grimmer and grimmer.’

‘Yes’, admitted Aimee, glad that her father sounded more reasonable than during their last conversation. ‘More and more muggle families are deciding to go into hiding. I think we should consider it to.’

‘No.’

Aimee’s heart sunk. 

‘Come on, papa, be reasonable. Can we at least talk about it?’, she pleaded. 

‘All our life, your mum and I have stood up for injustice’, said her father. ‘We are not going to stop now, because this racist happens to be a wizard.’ 

Aimee sighed. In the last three decades there had not been a peace protest her parents had not been part of, and she was very proud of their unmovable morals. Yet, she could not help feeling that her father could not truly understand the severity of a wizard war. 

‘Aimee,’, started her father, his voice soft and serious. ‘We understand the situation. Don’t disrespect us by making decisions on our behalf. We are the parents.’

Aimee looked down at her shoes in shame. She did not mean to belittle her parents. Her father had a deep understanding of most societies in the world, including the wizarding one. Philippe was a history teacher at the local school in Cornwall and his study was filled with books on the muggle history, but it was also filled with a fair number of books on the wizard world.   
She knew that her parents would take a stand if there was an upcoming war in the muggle world as they had done many times. Yet, it was not really fair to make that stand if everyone else could wield a wand, was it?

‘I’ll wait for Fred at the front door.’

‘We love you, you know’, said her mum.

‘I know’, muttered Aimee, not loud enough to be heard.

\-- 

The Burrow had never looked so neat. Aimee’s mouth dropped when she and Fred arrived. 

‘I think you should save Ginny over there from aunt Muriel’, said Fred and nodded in the direction of Aimee’s best friend. ‘Before she kills her.’

‘Who will kill who?’ grinned Aimee. 

‘Better not to find out today.’  
Aimee and Fred parted ways. They were a little bit early, so most guests had not arrived yet. Fred went over to the marquee to tie up some golden balloons with his twin and Aimee went over to Ginny. Before she got to her best friend, she got almost tackled by a girl with silvery blond hair. 

‘Gabrielle! Comment allez-tu?’, she asked. Gabrielle responded in such rapid French that Aimee had trouble catching it all. She understood that the little Delacour was happy to see her, that Fleur looked beautiful and that she thought that all the adults had gone crazy.  
She had not spoken the girl since the Triwizard Tournament, where Aimee had helped the Beauxbatons students a little, for she spoke fluent French. Gabrielle had taken a liking to her, since she had been one of the only Hogwarts students that understood her. The bubbly girl had written her last year to tell about her first year at Beauxbatons.   
Luckily for Aimee, Ginny chose that moment to interrupt.

‘Sorry, Gabrielle. I am going to steal my best friend from you’. She pulled Aimee away. She looked slightly panicked. ‘You think you can work some of your transfiguration magic on me?’, she questioned. 

‘We’re not allowed to do magic outside of school’, laughed Aimee, she would turn seventeen on the fourth of September. ‘Besides you look amazing.’   
Ginny almost seemed to glow in the golden dress she was wearing, she truly did look beautiful. 

Ginny moaned. ‘This surely counts as an emergency.’, she whined. ‘I’ll be standing next to not one, but two bloody Veela’s!’  
With six older brothers, Ginny could hardly be described as vain and Aimee eyed her in suspicion. 

Then it dawned on her. ‘Is Harry here?’, she gasped, suddenly nervous, looking around for the Chosen One.

‘Well no, because that would put a big mark on our wedding.’, said Ginny and her tone betrayed that Aimee had guessed right. ‘So, this is all hypothetical.’  
Aimee looked at Ginny intrigued. 

‘But if he were here, and we happened to have kissed just yesterday, then you can imagine why I would like to make an impression.’  
It took a few seconds for Aimee to wrap her mind around Ginny’s words. Just before the summer, Ginny had told her with tears in her eyes that Harry Potter had broken up with her. And now it seemed, that they had kissed again.   
‘Well’, she said slowly, not really sure how she felt about Ginny pining after Harry yet again. ‘If that had happened, then I would tell you not to worry about it, because then you clearly already had made an impression. But Gin, don’t get your hopes up. You said it yourself, as long as You-Know-Who is around, he will never be able to fully commit to you.’

Ginny nodded seriously. Aimee felt this weird pang of pride and sadness in her chest; they were growing up. 

‘I know’, sighed Ginny softly. ‘I just want to create some happy memories, you know, for as long as we can.’

Aimee hooked her arm in her best friend’s as they walked towards the tent where everyone was trying to create some happy memories for as long as they could. The girls may have not seen each other for just over a month, they had matured a lot more.


	3. Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aimee is captured by Ministry Workers

Aimee thought that she had been down here for only couple of hours and she already could not take it anymore. Somewhere in the dark a woman wailed. She could not bring herself to care.

She wished she was too stunned to think, but that was not the case. Her mind worked perfectly clear and seemed to repeat the events of this afternoon over and over again. Outside her dungeon, three dementors floated past as they went up and down the corridor of dungeon cells. Even with more distance between herself and the dementors, her mood did not improve. Screams still ringed in her ears. Incredible guilt still rushed through her veins. She should have seen it coming. She should have prevented it. Her parents were dead, and it was all her fault.

Just three hours earlier, she had been sitting in her living room, drinking tea with her parents as she had described all the beautiful dresses of the wedding to her mum.

It had been two days since Death Eaters and Ministry Workers had interrupted the wedding. Two days since Aimee’s personal details, along with everyone else’s, was taken by some Ministry Workers. Two days since a very shaken Arthur Weasley had returned her to her parents.

Arthur had filled Philippe in on the recent events. Aimee and Philippe had talked about the Ministry being overtaken for hours. Until Daffodil Laurent had enough and had steered the conversation back to the more mundane events of the wedding. There was nothing to be done about it now, she had said. So, Aimee sipped her chamomile tea and tried to describe the material of the bridesmaid dresses.

With four loud bangs their living room was suddenly filled with three wizards and one witch in grey cloaks.

The witch had read an arrest warrant, apparently Aimee had stolen someone’s magic. Aimee had not even time to reach for her wand, it was still up in her room. She stood completely frozen as two wizards picked her up and put her hands in magical restraints. It may have all ended well, if her father had kept quiet. But he had not.

‘That is what Voldemort came up with?’, he bellowed, and Aimee had never seen him this angry. ‘Aimee stole someone’s magic from an adult, when she was younger than eleven. That is your theory? THAT IS YOUR THEORY! Can you even hear how stupid that is? How weak are wizards if muggle children can steal their magic? What a stupid theory.’

The witch shrieked. ‘How dare you use his name, you filthy muggle!’

White with anger she swept her wand. With a nauseating crack Philippe Laurent’s neck snapped back and he fell to the ground as both Aimee and her mum screamed.

Aimee still screamed when her mum fell down to the ground in a flash of green and she was still screaming when they apparated.

She still felt like screaming right now, but no sound seemed to come out anymore. Her throat burned with soreness and acid and she threw up for the third time since she had come to the dungeon.

Vaguely, she was aware of someone holding back her hair as she retched all over her own legs, not caring enough to move her head. A wet rag, swept over her legs, cleaning away the filth. Aimee did not understand why people still cared.

Vaguely she realized that she was the wailing woman she had heard before, and then everything went black.

\--

As soon as she drifted back to consciousness, she wished she had not. Even before she opened her eyes, her chest was crushed with a devastating emptiness. Her mum and papa were dead.

She moaned, her voice hoarse. A soft hand landed on her forehead and swept away the hair sticking to her forehead. She did not know why she was sweating, she was terribly cold.

‘What’s your name?’, asked a woman’s voice. Aimee did not understand why this woman cared. How she still could care, because it seemed like the world had ended. Everyone should stop caring.

‘My parents were murdered.’, she answered the voice. Her own voice was barely a whisper, raw and hoarse. Her dead parents seemed to penetrate every inch of her mind.

‘I’m sorry, dear.’, answered the voice. ‘Are you Hogwarts age?’

‘My parents are dead.’, replied Aimee. She wished the woman would shut up.

The woman stayed by her side for hours. Every time the dementors swept past the dungeon Aimee would hear her mother’s screams, every time the dementors were away, her mind would fill with an incredible guilt.

Bowls of soup glided inside the dungeon. The woman tried to feed her some of it. Aimee kept her lips shut. She figured starvation would be the best way out.

It went on like that for three days as more and more people filled their neighbouring dungeons. It seemed as everywhere around the country, muggleborns were taken as prisoners. Their dungeon was still quite empty. There were six women according to the woman’s voice.

Aimee had not eaten for three days now and her hunger came with a blissful light-headedness. If everything became too much, she would just stand up and everything went black. She hoped she would die soon.

On day four the woman belonging to the voice, she could not see anyone in the dark, force-fed her a few bites of soup. ‘Starvation takes months, my dear. Your court-date is in ten days. Better eat.’

‘Court-date?’, she rasped.

‘Whatever charade that is’, muttered the woman.

Aimee did not think her stay in the dungeon could become any worse, but she was wrong. Their dungeon door opened and a dozen crying children came inside. Her stay in the dungeon was even more unpleasant now she was surrounded by the sounds of confused children in absolute despair. To top it all off, the woman’s voice had disappeared.

A few hours after the children had arrived. The woman’s voice came back.

‘All right, little Gryffindor’, said the voice. ‘Time to be strong now. We need to remember the names of the children.;

‘Why?’, cracked Aimee.

‘Because those muggle parents need to be found and informed. They will be sick with worry.’

‘It’s no use’, mumbled Aimee. ‘The parents are dead. They will never let us out.’

‘Don’t think like that.’, said the voice. ‘People are leaving and they are not returning.’

‘Azkaban.’, rasped Aimee.

‘Come now. Don’t think like that’, said the voice a little firmer. ‘We have to do what we can.’

We have to do what we can.

The words echoed to her head. They seemed familiar. Suddenly, an image of her father popped up in her head. Do what we can.

‘Make papa proud.’, she rasped.

‘That’s the spirit’, said the voice. A soft hand grabbed Aimee’s wrist and let her through the dungeon.

_Timmy Keller, 11._

_Amber Keller, 10._

_Daisy Keller, 7._

_Ivy Wilson, 11._

_Darren Goodman, 11._

_Cathy Goodman, 9._

_Ara Meyers, 11._

_Janet Little, 10._

_Destiny Reynolds, 11._

_Kate Huang, 11._

_Dave Huang, 8._

_Sunny Huang, 6._

In less than a day, Aimee had the names memorised and grifted in her head forever. The names of muggleborns who just received their first Hogwarts letters and their siblings. Little children, who just for one month had been excited for their magical fate. Then the horror had started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have a minute, please let me know what you think!


	4. Rescued by the Order

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McGonagall shows up at the hearing.

Aimee did not just feel cold. She felt like she was the cold, as if her mere presence in the room took down the temperature. She radiated coldness.  
The chocolate was too sweet, and it seemed to burn in her dry throat. She felt like she would throw up as acid raised in her throat.  
She jerked her head away, when someone tried to feed her more chocolate. 

‘She is malnourished, I don’t think her body can handle the chocolate.’, said a deep voice. 

‘She looks horrible.’, said a familiar voice. ‘Just imagine being with dementors for over two weeks just after watching your parents get murdered.’  
That was hardly subtle, thought Aimee sluggishly. Classic Tonks. She had recognized the familiar voice. 

Slowly someone helped her sip water and nibble on chocolate, until the coldness left her body. Someone else placed a warm cloak around her, Aimee looked up and directly in the eyes of her Transfiguration teacher. 

‘You’re not my mum’, she said dully, as she remembered her trial, just an hour earlier.

‘Is there any proof that this girl is indeed a real witch?’, asked a high-pitched voice that Aimee immediately recognized as the voice of Dolores Umbridge, the most horrible teacher she had ever had. 

‘I have proof’, came the clear voice of Minerva McGonagall. ‘She is my daughter.’

What had followed was the most believable bullshit, Aimee had ever heard. Apparently, Minerva McGonagall, after a brief fling with a French wizard, had given up her baby for adoption, to a muggle family with French roots, who had desperately been trying for a child for several years. She had always kept her daughter a secret, for she did not want it to intervene with her marriage to Elphinstone Urquart. 

The court was presented with some convincing medical documents. Mrs. Laurent indeed did have two miscarriages and a stillborn before having Aimee. Professor McGonagall had indeed been married after Aimee’s birth. Apparently witches could have children at an older age. If Aimee had not once been forced by Daffy Laurent to watch her own birth photos, she might have believed the story herself.

‘I can show you her true appearance. I have enchanted her before to make her look like her adoptive parents.’  
McGonagall turned towards Umbridge. ‘You just have to perform the Ostendit Enchantment’, she said.  
‘You do it’, said Umbridge rather quickly and Aimee suspected that she had no clue as to what the Ostendit Enchantment was.  
‘All right’, McGonagall’s eyes pierced into Aimee’s. ‘At the count of three I will perform the spell and the girl will resume her true form as my daughter’, she explained to the court, though her eyes never left Aimee’s.  
‘One, two, three, Ostendo’. A gentle tap of the wand on her skull, but Aimee felt nothing. Suddenly she realized what she was supposed to do. She closed her eyes as she tried to imagine what McGonagall may look like when she was younger. She made quite a show of shrinking her hair back in her skull, before growing it out in black. She contorted her nose to be slightly more pointy, she felt her nostrils grow. Her chin sticked out. When she opened her eyes, they matched McGonagall’s in colour. People around her gasped. People whispered. Even McGonagall had looked shocked.

After that, Umbridge was just too busy with gloating over McGonagall’s scandalous behaviour that resulted in a child out of wedlock, to ask any more critical questions and the court was soon closed. Nobody had even asked Aimee a question.

The question remained why, why did McGonagall save her? From all the muggleborn students she could have saved, why her?

And then it dawned on her. 

The names.

‘Timmy, Amber and Daisy Keller. Ivy Wilson. Darren and Cathy Goodman. Ara Meyers. Janet Little. Destiny Reynolds. Kate, Dave and Sunny Huang.’, she droned the names up. 

Three pairs of eyes looked at her. 

‘What is she talking about?’, asked Tonks. ‘Has she gone mad?’ 

Aimee repeated the names.

Professor McGonagall understood. ‘No’, she replied faintly. ‘It’s the names of the muggleborn wizards and witches who were about to start their first year at Hogwarts.’

Aimee nodded.

‘We- were they taken as well?’, asked McGonagall in a horrified voice. 

Aimee had never been more confused. If they did not know about the children, why was she here?

Tonks kneeled in front of her. ‘The Order has a mission for you.’, she said, her eyes worryingly glancing over Aimee’s face. ‘You still want to fight with us, right?’

‘To rescue the children?’, Aimee rasped, she wished her voice would sound normal again. 

‘No, a mission at Hogwarts.’, said a deep voice. It belonged to a tall black wizard. 

Aimee shook her head. She wished she could think clearly. Nothing made sense. Why were they not making a plan to rescue the children?

‘They took kids’, she repeated. Maybe they had not heard her clearly.

‘We heard you, Aimee’, said Tonks sadly, still crouched in front of her. ‘But there is nothing we can do. The Ministry is too secure.’

‘You don’t care’, she accused. ‘because they are muggles. Nobody cares about the muggleborns.’ 

If there was any moisture left in her body, she would have cried, but everything was dry. She and the voice had spent all their efforts to memorize the names in vain. They had made empty promises to the kids. Nobody would save them.

‘That’s not true.’, Tonks sounded a little hurt. ‘We do care, but there is nothing we can do.’

‘Sunny is only six’, moaned Aimee. Behind her she heard McGonagall fall down in a chair. 

‘When we defeat You-Know-Who, you and I will go and rescue the children.’, promised the black wizard. ‘It will be the first thing we do.’

‘You can trust Kingsley’, said Tonks. ‘He’ll do what he says. The best way to help them is to defeat the Death Eaters and their asshole leader.’

‘Okay’, croaked Aimee, they were making sense after all. She could not recall exactly why she cared, but she knew that just a few weeks ago, it was her greatest wish to join the Order. ‘What do you want me to do?’

‘We want you to seduce Amycus Carrow.’  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments make my day <3


End file.
